


Tension

by ankhscarab



Series: Apollo Headcanon PWKM Verse 1 [3]
Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ankhscarab/pseuds/ankhscarab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo's using Klavier as a replacement for Kristoph. Both parties engage in casual sex knowing this. Apollo can't think about anyone but Kristoph as he gets fucked by Klavier, who really does love Apollo but can't say anything about it. Anything goes for the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Apollo

**-Apollo-**

He probably thinks I'm asleep or maybe distracted, as he stares at himself in the mirror, tugging at the drill of hair over his shoulder, chatting with himself in the mirror in German.

I don't understand a word he says besides the nickname he uses for me in court, though I know something can't be right by his tone. But...

He's good at what he does. 

This has no strings, no expectations. It's just sex.

He's just a friend and a fuckbuddy who happens to look like my former mentor and he's agreed to that role.

That makes it fine, doesn't it? It's a ... _perfect_ solution.


	2. Part 2: Klavier

**~Klavier~**

It was always his goal. Take control of the center, create a chainwork of loyalty. The simplest way to weasel your way through anything -- bribery with whatever would work, even if it was your own body... and when that wasn't enough there was always simple blackmail. 

_King's Pawn to E4._

That's why he preferred that one move to start a game, though it could be a risky opening. It is a fast-track to the King's Assassination, at least if your opponent can't see the reasons for this move. Though now that the game is up, it is still clear to me that even when he's gone, Herr Forehead is still his dead king's most loyal pawn. 

I'm not sure if Kristoph even knew that I watched _that_ tape. It's quite possible he did. I don't think even Herr Forehead knew how much control Kristoph focused on at his offices -- all the contingency plans and surveillance. He never told me all the details. I technically wasn't supposed to be privy to any of my own brother's secrets except those he told me. But, he'd left that one out in the open -- probably a trap for me or maybe Herr Wright. 

If what he'd wanted was jealousy and regret, he got it from me, though I tried as hell not to make it obvious. He did know that I found excitement and irritation in those days when he insisted we dress alike just to fuck with people. It's actually quite hard for me to pretend to be Kristoph.

 

He shows nothing while I'm holding him. His expression is a complete reversal of the expressive faces he makes in court -- it's a face that's been trained by my brother, calculated and daring. A part of me wonders why this face _doesn't_ appear in court. It's a face that would give him so much more credibility, but I have to admit that it isn't Herr Forehead. 

Not the adorable flustered attorney I want every time I face him in court. 

I wish I could say he's adorable, that I love him, and that I'd wait for him. But he doesn't see me, doesn't hear my silent 'I love you more than he ever did'. He still sees him. 

And yet, I agreed to this. To be _him_. A stand-in for my brother in sexual acts. Doing exactly what I both love and hate. I don't know what I was thinking, perhaps that this is the closest thing to my fantasy I will ever get. Kristoph's control of the chessboard has destroyed any hope I have. 

I block out the shout of my brother's name when he cums and I clean us thoroughly afterward and get rid of the towel protecting the bedsheets, though quite honestly I personally don't give a damn about how clean either of us or the bed is. It's one of Kristoph's quirks and I'm supposed to follow through. In these small hours, I am Kristoph. I can't be Klavier. 

So we have sex, but it's nothing to him. And because it was nothing to Kristoph, it shouldn't mean anything to me. 

"We're friends," he tells me. And I have to hide how much it hurts that we're both just pawns playing a game of memories that a King long-dead is still running from off the playing field. 

It's like a poison running through my veins, having to hide everything like this, though I know saying exactly what I feel will end this and I'll be left with empty hands and quite possibly nothing to live for. 

And that's why I am left with the same endless confusion as I scold myself in the mirror for choosing this slow and deadly battle. 

Your brother positioned you like this, Klavier, destroying your only chance at having the adorable Herr Forehead as a partner. And now, you got yourself into this. You're serving as nothing more than your brother's double. This isn't what you want, is it? So why are you doing this? 

And there's only ever one answer I can give myself: I'm in love and I'm desperate and this is the only chance I have.


End file.
